Laughing Manor
by Stephen Ratliff
Summary: When Harry was just about to turn seven, Mrs. Figg broke her leg, requiring Minerva McGonagall to arrange another family to move into Little Whinging to watch him. The daughter of the late Lord of Cackle Manor is coming home with her family, and Privet Drive will never be the same.


_**Author's Note**_ _: I know, I have enough works in progress that never seem to get done. This idea, though, caught the muse, or should I say the muse for this story caught me? In any case this is the story of what happens when certain family from Devonshire moves to Surrey, right next to the playground where Harry and Dudley play just before their seventh birthdays._

 _I'd like to thank the following for their feedback with this story: Brad Coleman, Nyla Filch_ , _Matt Arnold, thecaineone, Alysson deMerel, dap, jdleanard88, Jonas33, Shalon Wood, meteoricshipyards, and the irreplaceable Jim Trigg_. _In particular Alysson gave me my ending what next spiel._

 **Chapter One:** A light feather

Standing just to the South of the public playground near Magnolia Crescent in Little Whinging, Surrey was a house that could only be described as a manor house. It was a stately red brick structure, which some classified as a Scottish baronial style. The fifteen bed and bath, with all the requisite state rooms and some rather nice extras like an indoor pool, had been unoccupied for almost seven years. Many suspected that since most of the land had been sold off in the fifties to create the many family homes like the ones off Privet Drive, it had been cursed.

At one time, the owners had been quite well known, if a bit eccentric, in both Greater and Little Whinging. If you listened to the widow Arabella Figg off Wisteria Walk, who seemed to know all about them, you'd certainly feel that you missed something.

Abdon Prewitt had sold off most of the land, but kept Cackle Hall itself. He had apparently been some big wig in a ministry, the rumor had been that he worked in the Ministry of Defense, but no one had ever confirmed it. Everyone called his wife Angelicia a witch, but only in the best possible way. Together they were known for their charity. It had been said that many of the first residents of the nearby streets were only able to afford due to the generosity of the Prewitts.

The Prewitts had four children, Timothy, Fabian, Gideon, and Molly. Timothy had died in the war, the victim of the Blitz. Molly had run off with a boy who she'd attended boarding school with. Rumor was that her father had arranged for him to become a minor functionary in the Home Office. Fabian and Gideon had both been police officers, and had died in the line of duty. If the Widow Figg was to be believed, they were ambushed by five gang members in Bristol. Just two weeks later, tragedy struck the family again, when both Abdon and Angelicia were found mysteriously dead, sitting in the Library.

Officer Krupke told everyone that it was the strangest thing he'd ever seen. It was as if they'd been scared to death by what they read, and it wasn't that scary of a book. Widow Figg thought they had been murdered, but in that no one agreed with her. Who would kill such good people as the Prewitts, after all?

Of course, Widow Figg wasn't in the best of health, and was the local crazy cat lady. In fact, just a week ago, the widow had fallen and broke her leg. She was now recuperating in Bath, it was said. Her theories might not be the best.

But it had been seven years, and no one had moved into the manor. So it was to the great surprise of many that an old Ford Angela pulled up and disgorged a half dozen young red headed boys, followed by woman to match. It was obvious that they were hers, as was the youngest, a daughter who had apparently rode in on her lap. The door seemed to open for the woman, and after a moment, the rumor mill was running at light speed.

Molly Prewitt was back at Cackle Hall, and had brought her children.

* * *

Harry Potter had no idea who Molly Prewitt was, nor her family. He'd wondered a bit about the abandoned manor house's couple times, but the thoughts had been fleeting, due to much the same reason as his current condition.

Harry Potter was running. He looked back as he reached the playground. He might have gotten away, but Harry kept running. He knew that if he got near the edge of the manor's grounds, and hid there, his cousins would loose interest in chasing him.

"What cha' running from?"

Harry looked to the side, spotting a young red headed girl matching his stride. "I'm trying to keep away from my cousin and his friends who want to beat me up."

"Why?"

"Don't know. They always want to beat me up."

"Want to hide at my new place?" the girl said. "They won't follow you theer, if I let you in."

"Where?" Harry asked. He was always looking for a new place to hide.

"Follow me!" the girl said, picking up the pace enough to pass him.

* * *

Harry followed the smaller girl, ducking in between two fence posts where the fence types changed. He was pretty sure that there was no way that Dudley would be able to get between the chain link fence and the wrought iron spires capped with intertwined dragons. He barely fit. Then the two of the hid behind a tall stone post, as Dudley pounded by with his friends.

The girl giggled after they passed. "Come on," she said. "Mum will want to meet you?"

"Why?" Harry asked.

"Mum always wants to meet my friends," the girl said.

"You don't want to be my friend," Harry said sadly. Offering to be his friend was always were everything started to turn against the six-year-old. "Dudley always beats up any one who even thinks about being my friend." He started to turn away.

"I want to be your friend," the girl replied with such force that Harry had to meet her gaze again. "I want to join you flying to the moon and fighting dragons! Dudley won't be able to beat me up. Not with the twins around. They won't dare to go against Fred and George."

"Did someone invoke our names?" another voice said before a pair of identical twins with the same color of hair as the girl, though somehow it wasn't as fiery as the nimbus around the girl.

"Hopefully not in vain," the other twin said.

"Perhaps our sister has need of our services, Fred?"

"I thought you were Fred, George," the other said. "She doesn't seem to need us at the moment."

"Indeed, in fact if I see the signs, Ginny appears to have recruited a professional hero, defeater of dark lords, basilisks, werewolves, dementors, and other assorted seriously evil creatures." George said, at least Harry thought it was George.

"Why, if the books are to believed, he even will fly her to the moon," Fred said.

"I'm no hero, I'm just Harry," Harry replied.

George reached over and flipped Harry's bangs up, revealing the lightning shaped scar that Harry always tried to hide. "Bright green eyes, the scar, looks just like the picture of his father that mum has," George said.

"You have to be the hero, Harry Potter," Fred announced. "Accept no substitutes ... at least for our sister's bedtime stories."

"How did you know my name?" Harry asked.

"Mum told us," George said. "It's why we moved from the Burrow into Laughing Manor."

"It's not called that, Fred," Ginny said. "Mum told you that it's Cackle Hall."

"I'm Fred," Fred said. "Any way, Mum said Dumbledore said you needing looking after. So we moved."

"But I'm just Harry," Harry repeated, his thoughts spilling out. "No one cares about me. No one knows me. I'm barely even in school. I'm just Harry."

"No, you're not," Ginny said. "You're Harry Potter, a hero! That's what Mum and Dad always called you. Come on, Mum will tell you."

Harry found himself being dragged towards a side door of Cackle Hall, his mind still stuck on the thought that he might be something more than the slave of the Dursley's.

* * *

Molly Weasley had come to the conclusion that she really should have at least checked on the house she'd grown up in after her parents and twin brothers died. She had inherited it, after all. She didn't really need the place though. The Burrow in Devon was quite suitable for the family. It was a bit crowded, but she enjoyed her simple life as a Devonshire housewitch.

Once she cleaned up the place, Cackle Hall would be quite a bit for the family, and the place did need quite a bit of cleaning up. Only the Master Bedroom, her old bedroom, and the bedroom that had been her oldest brother's was really useable at the moment. Arthur had moved all the boys beds to Timothy's old room last night. She figured it would be a few days before each of the boys could move into their own rooms.

She'd set Ginny up in her old room, which at twenty-eight by almost eighteen feet could fit Ginny's old room five times. It was really too much of a room for the girl, especially at her age, but it was close and clean, which was more than she could say for her old bathroom. Molly had not cleaned her bathroom properly before she eloped with Arthur and it showed.

As she finished cleaning the family room across from the kitchen she tallied what she had done and still needed to do. The kitchen was done, and Percy was doing a yeoman's job on the library, in between getting caught by some book he just couldn't resist reading. Bill had just come in from mowing the lawn with the old reel mower, and was properly rehydrating and cooling himself in the kitchen. Hopefully he wouldn't set that room back on the cleaning list. The Reception Hall and Entry Hall were clean. She looked through the passage to the Garden Room. It looked like Charlie was doing a good job there.

There was a lot of work to do on the First Floor, and the Top floor was completely untouched. The Weasley's didn't really need to live in a fifteen bedroom manor, but it was Molly's by right, and Molly was determined, now that she had seen the place, that it wasn't going to fall into disrepair. Fortunately only about seven years had passed since her parents and twin brothers had died, so it wasn't too bad. She did dread cleaning out the old servants wing. That really hadn't been used since her grandparent's day, and most of those servants had been hired for show, given that the Pewwitts were practically the muggle nobility of the area of Surrey around Cackle Hall.

A cat darted into the room and transformed into Molly's old Transfiguration Professor. "Ginny, and your twins are on their way with Harry," Minerva McGonagall announced. "It appears that young Mister Dursley is currently engaged in a pastime known as Harry hunting. Your son Ron rather neatly worked with Ginny to separate the bunch."

"Where is Ron now?" Molly asked.

"On top of the monkey bars, I believe," Minerva said. "Shall I act as the concerned governess and retrieve him?"

"Yes, he needs to meet Harry too, if we're going to carry this plan off," Molly said.

Minerva swept out of the room as Molly's gaze swept around the room. She was going to bring her rocking chair to this room, but otherwise the furniture would do. Living as a Devonshire farm-witch was a lot different role than she was going to have to step back into. She at least had some experience, unlike Arthur and her children.

* * *

Ron Weasley sat on top of the monkey bars, knowing that the big boys had him trapped. He'd figured out most of their names. Dudley was the fat kid directing things. Piers was the hawk nosed kid who was attempting to climb up and get him. The other names really didn't matter to him, but he knew them. It has been useful when goading them away from his sister and Harry Potter.

He had a plan to get out of the trap, but he wasn't sure how well jumping off the bars and running would work. It was a lot easier to make a plan when you knew what all the pieces on the board could do, and unlike his chess board, in the playground he didn't know that.

"Get him Piers!" Dudley cheered as the boy got closer to Ron.

Looking back at Dudley, Ron smiled. He wouldn't need to do the plan.

"And what do you expect Piers to do when he gets Mr. Weasley, Mr. Dursley?" Professor McGonagall said her hand clamping on Dudley's shoulder. "Would you be planning to beat him up like you do your cousin?"

Dudley looked up with a sudden expression of fear. Ron was sure that Dudley couldn't move with that grip on his shoulder. Ron couldn't when Professor McGonagall had come to the Burrow to discuss the move and he'd tried to get into the kitchen where his parents were discussing the move to Cackle Hall.

"Mr. Weasley, your mother wants to see you back at Cackle Hall, to meet Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall said. "Tell her that I shall be escorting Mr. Dursley home ... along with Mr. Porkiss, Mr. Goodlatte, and Mr. Warner."

"Yes, Professor McGonagall!" Ron said swinging down from the top of the monkey bars, and landing on the ground in a crouch. He headed back to Cackle Hall, taking the shortest route he knew to one of the openings in the Hall's fence.

To his great surprise he reached the back stairs entry just before the door closed behind his siblings, though apparently they hadn't spotted him. He opened the door, and jumped through it, only to be stopped by running into Harry.

"Sorry mate," Ron said, somehow stopping himself from knocking into the thin messy-haired boy.

* * *

Dudley Dursley was having the worse day he'd ever had. It had been perfectly normal until those gingers had distracted him and his friends from Harry Hunting. Worse, they'd apparently had a governess. Who had governesses these days? Especially evil ones like Minerva McGonagall?

Dudley had found himself the last of the boys that McGonagall had escorted home from the playground. He'd stood beside the Governess, frozen in obedience by her glare, and listened to the concise and accurate description of his gang's offenses. The six-year-old just knew that he and his friends would never be allowed to go to the playground again, much less without supervision. They'd all be grounded until they were fifty, at least! Piers had even gotten spanked, right in front of Dudley and the Governess.

And now, Dudley stood next to the Governess on his front stoop, as she rang the bell on number four Privet Drive. Dudley could not find the courage in himself to look up as the door opened revealing his mother.

"Petunia, it has been quiet a while," the Governess said. "I'd hoped to speak to you under better circumstances, but a few minutes ago I witnessed your son and his gang attacking my charge. Perhaps we should have a few words together about that incident before renewing our acquaintance?"

With every word the Governess said, Dudley felt doom closing in on him. It was not a usual feeling for the spoiled boy. His mother knowing this lady and the fact that he was the last boy to be taken to his parents left him no notion that he wasn't going to be punished somehow. He knew how Harry was punished, and had rejoiced in pawning off his punishment to his cousin. This time, he wasn't going to be.

"Come in Professor McGonagall," his mother said, her face pale. She led them to the kitchen where they sat down at the table.

"Before I go on to your son and his gang's misbehavior, Petunia," McGonagall began, "I must give my belated condolences on the loss of your sister. Lily was one of the smartest students in her year, and simply a joy to teach. All of Hogwarts was bereft at her passing. While I understand that you were not close at the time of her death, I do remember how close you were when I came to deliver her letter. The growing distance that comes from separate education followed by her loss with out reconciliation must have been hard on you."

Dudley was surprised that his mother only nodded. His mother sniffled. She never did that.

"Now as for your son, I witnessed him chasing two of my charges, the youngest two Weasley siblings," the Governess said. "Several times during their chase, which also included chasing your nephew and ward, he threw rocks at them. Twice a rock he threw hit the older of my charges, Ronald. Harry and Ginny managed to escape, but eventually they pinned Ronald up in the jungle gym. It was at that point that I managed to intervene.

"I brought all four boys to their parents, yours being the last. I can say that none of them are likely to be coming to play with Dudley in the next few days. Without exception they are grounded."

Dudley found his mother's glare to be quite uncomfortable. He'd never been under it before for more than a few seconds, as he'd been able to transfer his guilt to his cousin quickly. Somehow he knew that wasn't going to be possible this time.

"Dudley Dursley," his mother said in a very flat tone. "You will go to your room and don't come down until your father gets home. You will consider yourself lucky if he doesn't tan your bottom."

This was not supposed to happen. Dudley was supposed to get away with everything. He pounded up the stairs to his room as his mother's last command caught up with him "and no video games!"

This had to be the worst day of Dudley's life.

* * *

 _Are we going to find 'things' left behind by the Prewett twins by way of a legacy?_

 _Is the place haunted by ghost of a court fool? (Hieronymous Cackle - the most learned and trusted advisor to Elizabeth I )?_

 _What is lurking in The Well (the deep one out back. The one with the massive, stone cover, that is.)_

 _All these and other questions will be answered in the next installment of ..._

 _Laughing Manor ..._

 _or not._


End file.
